'I suppose it occurred to you,' she said, 'that Flora Lewis saw what she wanted to see. Or maybe didn't see it at all.'
Monk turned to her. 'You mean used me to rid her of these two black crackheads and their boom box, sort of scoop up the garbage?'
'Something like that.'
Monk smiled faintly. 'Something like that is why we went back to see her.'
* * *
They drove back to the Bayview in the morning. Crack dealers stay up at night and sleep in late—they didn't want the Price brothers to see them and then torch Flora Lewis's house with her still in it.
Their questions started simply, parsing her story into microscopic details: the time she first saw Payton and Rennell on the day Thuy Sen vanished; where precisely she was standing; whether she was wearing her glasses; how long it was until the Asian child appeared; how much longer it took for the girl to disappear inside. Then, what the brothers were wearing—a red windbreaker and blue jeans for Payton, she said, a black hooded sweatshirt and maybe matching sweatpants for Rennell. Now and then, Monk or Ainsworth would repeat a question to see if her answers were the same. At length, Ainsworth placed six mug shots on the coffee table in front of her.
'Recognize any of them?' he asked.
'Of course,' she answered with asperity and jabbed a palsied finger at two photographs. 'This one's Payton. This is Rennell—the one that grabbed that child off the street.'
'Can you tell me again what she was wearing?'
'Of course—plaid skirt and a dark green sweater.'
'Is it possible,' Monk asked carefully, 'that you remember her clothes from the description on TV?'
Lewis plucked at a pleat of her flowered dress in a gesture of irritation. 'I saw her. What I least remember, Inspector, is the description on TV. I was too shocked.'
'We have to be thorough. I'm sure you understand the importance of that.'
The tacit reminder that this was a homicide investigation which could become a murder trial seemed to give Lewis pause. When Monk placed Thuy Sen's school photograph beside the two black faces, she studied it with quiet sobriety.
'Is this the girl you saw?'
Lewis bit her lip. 'You know, I just can't be sure. I think so. But I don't remember ever seeing her pass by before—or any Asian girl. From here to the sidewalk it's hard to pick up features.'
'But you recognized Rennell and Payton.'
'Because they were facing me, and I've seen them all their lives. They live there, after all.'
'But you say other young men come there, too.'
'That's true.'
'Could one or both of the men you saw with the Asian girl have been one of them—a visitor—instead of Payton or Rennell?'
In the dim light of her standing lamp, Lewis's mouth pursed, and then she shook her head decisively. 'No. I can even tell you how Rennell Price walked toward that little girl, with the kind of lumbering menace he always has. Like he enjoys what his presence does to people.'
Monk pondered whether to raise the matter of race, then chose a more neutral question. 'The other young men that visited the brothers—can you identify any of them?'
Lewis stared into some middle distance, considering the question. 'I don't know them, or even know their names. Maybe one—the tall one with the light blue, beat-up Cadillac. Seems like he's always parked out there when there's any space to park.'
'Ever see this man up close?'
'No. Just through the window.'
'Think you'd recognize his picture?'
Lewis's eyes narrowed in thought. 'Without seeing it, I don't know.'
'But you didn't see his car that day.'
'Not that day, no.' Lewis paused, then added with emphatic distaste, 'All I saw was those two brothers.'
Watching her, Monk decided to change course. 'Do you remember the last time, Miss Lewis, you spoke with either Payton or Rennell?'
Lewis's shoulders twitched. 'A long time ago.'
'Years?'
'Several years. Ever since I saw what they'd become.'
'Was there a particular incident?' Ainsworth asked.
Lewis hesitated. Then she said, 'Payton called me a vulgarity.'
'Recall the nature of it?'
She folded her arms. 'I was carrying a bag of groceries. The bottom dropped out, and a melon burst all over the sidewalk.' Her voice filled with indignation. 'Payton and Rennell were sitting on the porch. But neither lifted a finger to help. Instead, Payton laughed and said, 'Serves that nosy old bitch right.' '
